


Rolling Boys

by Marquis_de_LargeBaguette



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, a bit of angst, except the fact that i liked writing it, no happy ending, sort of, theres pretty much no point in this fic, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquis_de_LargeBaguette/pseuds/Marquis_de_LargeBaguette
Summary: While fire and water opposes one another, there are some flames that can't be put out, and Warren Peace is left helpless on his own, swallowed by his own blazing flames.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This songfic was inspired by Rolling Papyrus, an Undertale parody of Rolling Girl from Vocaloid. I found the lyrics in a way fitting for this scenario. Of course, lyrics and characters don't belong to me and are credited to their rightful owners. 
> 
> These aren't the full lyrics, just a part of it taken out because I got lazy.

_Lonely boy mutters “I’m feeling fine”_

**A smile stitches itself on his lips. His long hair in the way of his peripheral vision. All he can really see ahead of him is the grey smoke that engulfs the high standing buildings and the low built houses. The trees are charred. Sparks of flames here and there.**

_But have those words failed him this time?_

**The world still stands around him, and they spin. The world spins so subtly that you could hardly ever tell you’re moving, but the sky would ever tell you otherwise. The clouds pass overhead of the smoke, the fire. The destroyed buildings that was once Maxville. So what is this place?**

_He’s a failure, a failure._

**It feels like hell. It looks like hell. The very surface of hell. And if his sins have ever confronted him of all his life, they confront him now. They lay across the table, those sins are exposed in not-so-broad daylight.**

_Always obsessing over his mistakes makes everything spin once again._

**Fire is dancing around his forearm. His mind clouded with clamour that doesn’t stop. Mere static overlaps the noises and he thinks his emotions might snap into something equivalent to a calm anger.**

_One more time, one more time._

**He stares at the figure standing across from him. His cape is stilled of breeze, and he might be staring back at him. It’s a figure of a boy no older than he is. Perhaps around the same age. From a distance, their height looks to be differed. He can’t tell for certain.**

_“I think I can roll along again today.”_

**Warren is taking in a deep breath. Smoke leaves his lungs breathless, and he chokes out every word. Every painful word there is to say, but he isn’t exactly sure there is anything to say. Not with the sharp words he offers, piercing through bones and organs that could kill a person.**

_That’s what he said, what he said._

**He has a sharp tongue, but it has dulled over the years. Leaving him no more than a blunt sword to use as a weapon. His words no more can stab. His words are no longer a threat, no longer a weapon. He displays threat by fire.**

_All the while breathing life into every word._

**He inhales every sparks of flame and every anger he inherits. He does nothing more than feed what is most dangerous to him, but he can’t help it. His words are the flame that needs attention, needs the gasoline to grow bigger and stronger.**

_“How ‘bout now?”_

**William Stronghold is the water that puts him out when he gets out of control. They’re the opposite, they oppose each other. They bump heads and the occasional ‘almost kill each other’. But it doesn’t mean they aren’t friends. What _are_ friends? **

_“Wait a little bit, we can’t really see what’s ahead in the future.”_

**Whenever they both hold hands, there is a steam that rises into the atmosphere from their intertwined fingers. They put each other out, and they put each other in place. There is not a single place where they aren’t together. Just like fire and water. They’re everywhere and anywhere.**

_“Why don’t you go hold your breath… right now.”_

**Though, not all fires can be put out. Some are too strong, and sometimes water simply makes it stronger. Sometimes Stronghold can’t calm the flame that is growing every second. Every step he’ll take is another path burned.**

_This is how it ends for rolling boys._

**There are slight fears that washes over his eyes as the pyro’s eyes are filled with flames. Whether they determine hatred, or revenge, it is always the flames that get him and burn him. Steam released, but never the calm ones.**

_They can’t reach the colours anymore._

**The cape that once stilled is now flowing in a light breeze. It sounds like a flag being blown from harsh winds, and his footsteps are quiet on the gravel ground. They both don’t dare to move a muscle, or even breathe. Their breaths are quiet and controlled.**

_The overlapping voices can be heard._

**They don’t blink, or speak. Their eyes are of harsh, silent words. Silently judging, silently interpreting and silently contemplating.**

_They all blend together, they all blend together._

**Wind is slowly pushing smoke past the damaged town. Debris is scattered on the streets, and they’ve wrecked almost everything. They’ve wrecked almost everything but themselves. They’ve only cracked, but never shattered. They always crack.**

_He mutters “I’m always feeling fine.”_

**Stitched smiles ripped at the seams. His hair is moving along with the wind, just clearing his sight a little. The trees are still burned, and the high standing buildings still sit there.**

_But now those words fail him this time._

**The sky stops moving, the world stops spinning.**

_He’s not caring how it ends._

**This is all of hell in one setting. He’s burning alive in his own flames, and he doesn’t know how to put it out. This is the flame no water could put out. No Stronghold could defeat him. Nothing to stop him.**

_He can’t predict his fate and everything it holds._

**There is no more clamour, just static. It gets louder. It fills his head with unspeakable things, and he’s slowly losing himself, unable to reach reality with the tip of his fingers.**

_An upward climb invites mistakes._

**Even with Stronghold, _there is no happy ending._**


End file.
